


Tequila and Second Chances

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Art Student Katsuki Yuuri, Clubbing, Do-Over, Drinking, M/M, Meet-Cute, Model Victor Nikiforov, Viktor is a casual nude man in every universe, Yuuri is a blackout drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24910138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: After a night at the club, Yuuri forgets having met someone quite memorable. Life gives him a second chance.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Comments: 36
Kudos: 222





	Tequila and Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savsglasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savsglasses/gifts).



> This was written for my lovely and wonderful ride or die, Sav <3 love you bitch, sorry this has no porn.
> 
> Yuuri is wearing [this shirt](https://www.redbubble.com/i/t-shirt/LGBT-COLOR-PANTONE-PALLETE-BISEXUAL-COMMUNITY-DESIGN-by-revolutionlove/25721510.TR8D9) at the bar. Thanks to Dachi and Riki for helping and beta-ing!

“Yuuri, please, you _have_ to come out with us tonight,” Phichit begged as Yuuri set down his eraser. “You haven’t gone out in months.”

Yuuri sighed and turned in his chair, away from his drawing table. “Phich, it’s not my scene, you know that.” Phichit groaned and raked his hands through his hair. “Besides, we both have a figure drawing class in the morning, you promised you’d come with me.”

Phichit rolled his eyes and walked into the room, plucking the pencil out of Yuuri’s hand and laid it on the desk. Yuuri opened his mouth to protest the interruption, but Phichit quashed any argument by throwing a shirt at him.

“You’re coming out with Chris and me, and you’re going to have a good time.” Phichit said with finality, and Yuuri choked when he realized which shirt he had been given. It was the one he’d bought online for last year’s Pride, the cheesy baseball tee with three Pantone squares across the chest, one for each color in the Bi Pride flag.

“I can’t… wear this in public, it’s not… it isn’t even Pride anymore!” Yuuri squeaked, but Phichit had already disappeared into his own room. “Phichit!”

* * *

“I hope you’re happy,” Yuuri grumbled as they stepped out of the cab, wrapping his denim jacket tighter around himself. He felt too big for his body, like he was taking up far too much space.

“As if the rest of your outfit doesn’t _scream_ bisexual.” Phichit teased, fishing out his ID and flashing it to the bouncer at the door. “In several languages.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and did the same, pocketing his wallet and raking a hand through his hair. The bar was crowded, as always, full of loud people and— there was already spilled beer on his boots. Yuuri groaned and waved off the incredibly drunk man who had lost his drink to the floor when he tried to apologize.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuuri yelled over the music, the din of people and glassware clinking. Phichit pulled Yuuri through the throng of people to the bar, where Christophe, Phichit’s boyfriend in everything but the label, was waiting.

 _“Bonsoir, mon ange,”_ Chris purred in French, pulling Phichit into his lap with a kiss. “I’m glad you convinced Yuuri to accompany us, I was worried I’d have to apologize if he didn’t show.”

“You know me, darling,” Phichit cooed in return, kissing him gently on the cheek. “As if I would allow a defeat.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows knit together in the middle. “Apologize?” He asked when Phichit turned to wave down the bartender. “To who?”

“I brought a friend, he was very interested in your… admittedly lackluster Insta presence,” Chris teased, making Yuuri’s cheeks burn. “Don’t be upset, I think you two will make fast friends.”

“Fast fuck buddies, don’t you mean?” Yuuri replied with more bite than he had expected, regretting allowing Phichit to pull him away from his sketchbook. “That’s what you two are always trying to do, trying to get me laid.”

Phichit turned with two drinks in hand, offering one to Yuuri. “Can you blame us? When was the last time you hooked up?” he asked, sipping his tequila sunrise with a gleam in his eye. “Or even gotten laid at all?”

Yuuri flushed again, gulping from his redbull vodka. If he was going to survive being set up _again,_ he needed to be a lot tipsier than this. “I don’t know, I don’t really keep track of that,” Yuuri answered, knowing full well the answer was too embarrassing to say out loud. In a packed bar.

“Yuuri?” Phichit asked, poking him in the cheek. “Earth to Katsuki.”

Yuuri immediately returned to the land of the living and shook it off. “Sorry. Just. Thinking.”

“Clearly,” Chris replied with a chuckle. His eyes lit up as he spotted something over Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri hesitated to turn around. He knew who Chris had just recognized. “Viktor’s here!”

Phichit squealed as Chris moved out from under him, hurrying to the door. Yuuri didn’t turn around, focusing on the slowly-melting ice in his glass.

“It’ll be fun. You’re both into art and dancing,” Phichit attempted to assure him, “He’s nice, and attractive. And he likes dogs. He has one, a big teddy bear of a poodle. I did some web sleuthing.” Yuuri managed a small smile and forced himself back into his body, once again feeling too large for the space.

“Viktor, _mon ami_ , this is Yuuri.” Chris’s voice returned from the fray and Yuuri finally turned around to see who he would be making small talk with all night before politely asking that they never speak of this again. He turned with his standard pleasant smile and his jaw immediately dropped.

“Hi, Yuuri! I’m Viktor,” the man replied, extending a hand to shake, a bright smile on his cheeks. It was oddly heart-shaped, joyful, even. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” was all Yuuri could manage as this Viktor took his hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of his hand. His shirt was painfully well-tailored, tight across his chest and sleeves rolled up to his elbows… god, what Yuuri wouldn’t give to sketch him.

“Chris has been torturing me with Yuuri stories all week,” Viktor replied with a hesitant laugh. “I couldn’t wait to meet you for myself. Can I get you a drink?” Phichit and Chris had already disappeared into the crowd, leaving them alone. “You know. After you finish that one?”

Yuuri’s eyes fell to the glass in his hand, then flicked his gaze back up to Viktor’s. “I… yeah, I’d like that.”

* * *

Yuuri had never had a hangover more horrific. The pounding in his head woke him before the sun had even begun to peek through the shades. His sheets were sticking to him in all the worst places, sweat had effectively stuck his clothes to his body.

He rolled over with great effort, a groan rumbling in his chest as he fumbled for his glasses and his phone. It was criminally early, but at least he had enough time to down a few painkillers and shower off last night’s mistakes before class.

Resting on the nightstand was a glass of water and the aspirin Yuuri had been hoping for, grateful to Phichit for caring to leave them for him. He shuddered at the thought of what a mess he must have been, as any memory of the night before was completely blank. He remembered getting to the bar and seeing Chris there, but everything after that was completely gone.

He threw back the pill and drank all of the water in one gulp before heading to the bathroom, only just before walking out of the room did he notice the note.

 _Text me in the morning?_  
_XXX-XXXX_  
^ ♡ ^

Fear began to coil in his gut. That wasn’t Phichit’s handwriting, and Chris absolutely wouldn’t have left him a note like that. The phone number was unfamiliar, and returned nothing when he typed it into his phone. Even the little emote at the bottom was unfamiliar. Whoever it was had _handwritten_ an emote.

Maybe he was still dreaming.

Someone had taken him home. Someone had seen the mess in his room, the half-finished sketch of his own _naked body_ still clearly displayed on his drawing desk. He tried to push it out of his mind, content at least to know that he hadn’t made any horizontal mistakes last night.

There were a few notifications on his phone, a handful of Instagram likes… he had apparently posted a photo, though it was just a blurred selfie. His cheeks were flushed with drink, as expected, his glasses askew on his nose. There was an unfamiliar arm wrapped around his shoulders, but Yuuri tried not to think too hard about it. He tended to make new friends while drunk.

He’d fallen asleep in his jeans, only his jacket and boots had managed to come off, landing in a haphazard pile on the ground. The smell of coffee brewing in the main room helped break Yuuri out of the hangover fog. Phichit was waiting, in a pair of pants that absolutely weren’t his, brewing a pot of coffee in the kitchen of their small apartment. Chris was there too, mixing up some kind of batter.

“You’re alive, good,” Phichit replied with a tired laugh, rubbing his eyes. “We thought you might have been lost to the tequila.” Yuuri groaned, wondering who had talked him into tequila. And how drunk he needed to be to forget the frat party freshman year that had ended in the complete banning of agave-based alcohol.

“Do you remember anything, _mon ami_?” Chris asked with a playful purr.

“No… I blacked out,” Yuuri began to explain, but the two simply hummed, Phichit cocking his head to the side for a moment. “What?” Yuuri asked, but Phichit answered by pressing a full mug of coffee into his hands and shooing him out of the kitchen.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Phichit smiled, guiding him toward the bathroom. “You still smell like bar and sweat. Go shower.”

Phichit and Chris didn’t mention whatever catastrophe had happened the night before, and Yuuri was grateful. He let last night’s mistakes wash away down the drain along with last night’s sweat, putting them out of his mind.

It wasn’t until they were walking to class that the question resurfaced, thoughts of that note pressing against the back of his mind along with the headache still lingering there.

 _After class_ , Yuuri thought to himself, stepping into the Arts building and following Phichit up the stairs to their classroom. The curiosity threatened to pull him under until their professor entered, chatting happily with their model for the day. Yuuri tucked his phone away and set his easel, indescribably happy to pick up a pencil and not think for a while.

Drawing came easier than thinking, especially on days when thinking made his head hurt. Yuuri tuned out his professor’s usual preamble, really just giving whoever he’d scheduled to model enough time to undress. They drew all kinds of people, the challenge of capturing different body shapes and anatomy was always a challenge Yuuri faced head-on.

He rolled his shoulders, his wrists, cracked his knuckles, still feeling the tension of sleep heavily in his joints.

There was a jovial laugh, a bright sound that tickled something in the back of Yuuri’s mind. It was odd, like scratching an itch he’d forgotten about. He had never been uncomfortable with nudity, growing up in a traditional onsen had taught him early that there was never shame in it… it made life drawing classes easy and enjoyable, but he still never gawked. He was careful with the modesty of others, ensuring he didn’t look until the model was posed on the platform.

But something about the sound of his voice pulled Yuuri’s eyes from his easel.

Yuuri had never seen a more well-muscled man in his life. He was tall, lean, broad in the shoulders with narrow hips, his iliac crests were so sharply defined it seemed unreal.

“Class, this is Viktor,” his professor began the routine introduction, but his voice was nearly drowned out when his piercing blue eyes met Yuuri’s. Time felt… _odd_ , in that moment. Slow, drawn-out like a summer afternoon. Yuuri flushed at the attention, turning back to his easel with a strange churning in his gut.

Phichit chuckled beside him and raised his eyebrows expectantly, though he graciously said nothing. The man was precisely Yuuri’s… well… he hesitated to say he had a type. But if Yuuri had a type, this _Viktor_ was absolutely his type and Phichit knew it.

Yuuri watched in brief glances as Viktor took his first pose, every muscle, every line of him perfectly poised and taut. Yuuri could see the sharp cut of his jaw, the carved lines of tendons flexing in his ankle. He was flawless, and Yuuri felt he could barely breathe.

The half-hour timer buzzed before Yuuri realized any time had passed at all, having barely sketched the man’s outline. He’d been oddly particular about the divots at the base of his spine, the flex of his calf as Viktor balanced gracefully on his toes.

Yuuri wondered if he was trained in ballet.

Viktor struck another pose, dropping one knee to the ground with both of his feet planted firmly on the ground. Viktor wove his fingers together in front of him, holding his hands carefully in front of him, covering anything but unhelpfully pressing muscled pecs together. _God_ , he was stunning. Yuuri crossed and uncrossed his legs; Viktor was making things very difficult.

The timer was reset and Yuuri looked back to his subject, those piercing blue eyes still burning into him. Yuuri still couldn’t shake the thought of how familiar Viktor was. Had they met before? Surely Yuuri would remember having met someone that looked… like he did.

Viktor moved through another long string of poses and their professor finally proclaimed the end of their time. Yuuri had been stifling a hard-on for two hours, trying not to stare at how perfect his ass was. He was completely ready to run back to the apartment and fall into bed and lose it like a teenager for a model he didn’t know.

He packed away his easel and supplies, feelings his cheeks burn hot and red.

“Yuuri!” _that_ voice called after him, Viktor’s voice. Accented, Russian. “Wait!”

Yuuri froze on his stool, feeling seen in every way. “Thank you for modeling today,” Yuuri said with a shaky voice, not looking up from his lap. “You’re… really good at it.”

Viktor laughed, and _god_ , it did things to Yuuri. “Thank you, I quite enjoy modeling… but you already knew that.” Viktor laughed again, at something Yuuri very clearly _did not_ know. “How are you feeling? Last night was pretty rough, hm?”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?” He asked, looking up from his lap for the first time to see that Viktor was, indeed, still nude. Any blood that hadn’t been pooling between his legs flooded into his cheeks. Seeing him this close was dangerous.

Yuuri flicked his eyes to Phichit in a silent request for help, for reconnaissance, for anything. Phichit simply chuckled and packed up his things before joining them.

“Hi Viktor!” Phichit chirped happily. “Good to see you again!”

_Again?_

“I’m just glad Yuuri made it through the night, I was a little worried when he didn’t text me,” Viktor said, throwing the puppy-eyed pout in Yuuri’s direction.

“Hang on, hang on.” Yuuri interrupted, holding up a finger as his mind spun. The hangover was still lingering, but flashes of moments began to flicker to life in his head. “Do I know you?” Yuuri asked after a moment, trying not to flinch as Viktor’s smile burst across his cheeks again.

 _“Da,”_ Viktor replied, a soft chuckle rumbling to life in his chest. “We met last night at the bar. Phichit explained that you might not remember me in the morning.”

Yuuri felt the almost inescapable urge to sink into the floor. Of course.

“He was a little worse for wear… very grouchy,” Phichit replied with the ease of water cooler chat, clearly ignoring the man’s complete nudity. How impossibly unfair of him to be so perfectly comfortable _without pants on_. “Yuuri, this is Viktor. You two met at the bar last night, and you had a great time. You told me all about it on the cab ride home.”

“You knew about this? And didn’t say anything?” Yuuri asked, his voice squeaking. “Did you know he was going to be our model?” Phichit simply nodded. If there was any way for Yuuri to be more embarrassed, he didn’t know what it was.

“I’d love to try that again, though…” Viktor said, something unlike his earlier charisma in his voice. “You know. Without five tequila shots and four redbull vodkas."

Yuuri nearly choked on nothing. "Are you really asking me out right now?” Yuuri asked incredulously. No one had seen him so horrifically drunk without immediately ghosting him. “Without even putting pants on?"

Phichit snorted a laugh so loud Yuuri feared rubber-necking from his classmates.

"I didn't know pants were required for asking you out," Viktor replied with a laugh. “I can go put my joggers back on and try again—”

“N-no, this… this is fine.” Yuuri replied, his cheeks more red than he could have imagined. “Pants… aren’t required, I guess.”

“You certainly thought so last night. I had to convince you to keep them on.” Phichit chimed in, unhelpfully.

“I thought it was cute.” Viktor added, even _more_ unhelpfully. “Nothing happened, I should add. You were far too gone for any kind of fun. You were just… eager to take your pants off at the club.”

Yuuri sighed, equal parts relieved and mortified. “I’m sorry you had to babysit me. I don’t hold my alcohol well.”

“I didn’t mind at all. We’ll try with just one glass of wine next time,” Viktor replied with an easy smile, reaching for Yuuri’s hand and lacing his fingers easily with his own. “As fun as it was to rub your back as you threw up and tuck you into bed afterward.”

Yuuri made an undignified squeaking sound that vaguely resembled the utter horror he felt inside, the thought of Viktor, this paragon of beauty, easy charm and wit kneeling beside him on the tile floor of his bathroom.

“You were right, he’s so fun to tease, Phichit!” Viktor laughed, the sound of it a minor consolation. “What do you say, Yuuri? Dinner tonight? I promise I’ll wear pants.”

“You… don’t have to wear pants,” Yuuri replied, entirely intending it to be a silent thought. Viktor’s smile widened and there was a shuffling of feet outside. The next class was probably waiting for the space, and Yuuri flushed anew.

“Neither do you,” Viktor answered, kissing Yuuri’s hand like he had last night.

Yuuri remembered that.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i can and will write viktor being casually nude in every situation, you all should know this by now. hope you enjoyed! this was a commission, and i'm donating proceeds to the Bail Project. i still have a few slots open!
> 
> <3 ia  
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ia_theauthor) | [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com)


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